


Strange Meetings Lead to Lifetime Choices

by wyvernisgod



Category: Something You Want - webcomic
Genre: Cooper is nice, Gen, Growing Up AU, Honestly I based Joe off of my friend's mom mixed with my mom, Joe is also nice, Joe is protective but not stifling, Sarah is a Badass (tm), it's nice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 01:03:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7597249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyvernisgod/pseuds/wyvernisgod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Sarah grows up, she starts to figure herself out. Of course, it's not always easy to do that-- but at least she has her dad, and the strange shadowy figure called Cooper that she's been aware of since she was 7. As much as Joe doesn't want to admit it, Cooper's a part of the family, too, and he helps Sarah out in figuring out what SHE wants.</p><p>"For being a bad guy, you’re not that bad of a guy, Cooper.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strange Meetings Lead to Lifetime Choices

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is the first time I've written fanfiction about a side character (and a character that we don't even see incomic, a that). I'd like to say right now that I don't own Something You Want-- the lovely www.qozxe.tumblr.com does! Thank you for reading this, and as the comic updates, I might post more fanfiction, maybe about Cooper and Maitho and Mariella, or something. Maybe a completely different AU!

The first time she ever heard from Cooper, she was 7 and hosting a tea party for her dad. He looked a little grumpy, like he always did, but he was wearing the princess tiara she had given him and was holding his teacup with the pinkie out, so he was at least cooperating. She smiled at him, handing over one of the small sandwiches he had made, and said cheerfully, “Eat up, dad! You’re gonna have to fight the dragon soon, to protect the kingdom, and you’re gonna have to be big an’ strong!”  
Her dad took the sandwich, eating it in one delicate crunch, and as he swallowed, his phone rang. He muttered some words under his breath (at least one of them was a word Sarah would get grounded for saying-- she would have to remind him to put a dime in the swear jar after he got off the phone) and picked up, muttering gruffly, “Yeah? What do you need, Cooper?”

He listened for a few minutes, and then sighed, standing up. Sarah felt a tug of disappointment-- if Dad was standing up, he was probably going to leave, and the party wasn’t even half over yet! But, to her surprise, he held out the phone to her, saying, “Honey, could you just keep Mr. Cooper busy for a minute? I have to run and check on something, okay? I promise we’ll get to finish the party after I do.”

She took the phone clumsily, holding it to her ear with both hands (it was too big for just one). A voice, deep and rough, asked softly, “Hello? Joe, are you still there?”

Sarah smiled and cheerfully sang into the phone. “Hello, mister! I’m Sarah, what’s your name?”

The voice was silent for a moment, and then it came back, a little bewildered. “Uh, my name’s Cooper. It’s nice to meet you, Sarah.” There was silence for a few seconds, until Mr. Cooper said, awkwardly, “So, how’s school?”

“I don’t like school.”

There was another second of silence, and then an easy, “Oh? Why not?”

Sarah rolled her eyes. This Mr. Cooper was boring, just like all her dad’s friends. Why did adults always wanna talk about school? “You’re boring, Mr. Cooper. Why does dad even talk to you?”

The voice responded almost instantly, but now it was lighter, like the person on the other end was getting ready to sing a song. “He has to, because otherwise I'll kill him and sell his corpse for money.”

Sarah didn’t know what that meant at the time, so she said, “Okay! My dad’s back, so I guess I have to go. Bye, Mr. Cooper!” She handed the phone off to her dad, who took it with a small smile, and it was only a few minutes more before they were back to their tea party.

\-----------------------------------------------

When she was 12, she came home with a black eye and bruised knuckles, and her dad took one look at her and flipped out. She didn’t get it-- she had won, and she didn’t look _half_ as bad as the kid who had lost, so really it was a win-win situation. She explained the situation to her father as they sat at the dining room table, her tracing the grain of the wood and him with both elbows firmly on the table.

“Dad, I had to fight him. Him and his friends caught me behind the gym and started making fun of me and pushing me around, what was I supposed to do? The principal wouldn’t do anything, anyway. And, look, dad… I’m sorry that it upset you, alright, but I’m not sorry I hit him. He called Tracy a fag a week ago, so he deserved it even without the other stuff.”

She looked up, gauging his reaction, but he still seemed pretty freaked out. Without warning, he pulled his phone from his pocket, dialing a number from memory. When it picked up, he said, voice a half octave higher than usual, “Yeah, sorry to call this late. I have to take the next two days off-- no, it’s not an _emergency,_ but-- listen, Cooper, my daughter got into a fight today. I want to take time off and spend it with her, is that too much to fu-- too much to ask?” He listened for a moment, and his freaked out expression morphed into one of grumpiness, which was good. Grumpy was his normal mood. “Some hormonal little pimples tried to beat her up behind the gym. What? No, she almost put one of them in the hospital.” His frown deepened. “No, I will not! Now, can I take the damn days off, or not?”  
When he got off the phone, he sighed and looked at her levelly. “Sarah, you’re suspended from school for the next two days, so we’re going to go to the zoo, and then a movie, and I want you to promise me that you’ll only fight someone if you really, really have to. You can come to me before you fight them, if it goes that far.”

She smiled a little at that. “Come to you? Are you gonna beat them up for me? That would be pretty cool, dad.”

He didn’t look amused. “No, but I know people who would be willing to do it for me. Please, Sarah, promise me this. Minimal fights, okay?”

She promised. What else could she do?

\------------------------------------------

People stared at her black eye at the zoo. She stared right back and smiled at them with the smugness of a winner, and they were always the first one to look away.

\------------------------------------------

For her 13th birthday, a package came in the mail with no return address. Her dad was still at work, so she opened it alone. Inside were the strangest knives she had ever seen-- the handle split in two, with the knife hidden inside. One of them was sharp, the other was blunt, and both were shiny gold. Underneath them both, a small card, plain, sat hidden by tissue paper. Inside, blocky capital letters read,

The blunt knife is for learning tricks on. If you search ‘butterfly knife tricks’ on YouTube, you can find some basic ones. They’re good for showing off, and defending yourself too. No one will try and fight you with one of these close by. Take care of yourself, and your dad.

\--Cooper

She picked up the blunt knife, positioning the handles so they were together but the blade portion was sticking out, and turned it over in her hand, admiring the weight and glimmer.

\-------------------------------------

She carried the sharp knife with her wherever she went after that. It felt heavy and reliable in her jacket pocket, and even though she never had to pull it out for a fight, just knowing it was there was enough.

\------------------------------------

When she was 15, she discovered that she was not going to be a sweetheart. She liked fighting, hated dating, loved her friends and hated her enemies with a fierce determination that left no room for inbetweens. Her father didn’t do anything to dissuade her, just told her to keep being herself and to keep out of trouble as much as possible. Of course, she still got into fights, and she had more than a few enemies, but she had a lot of friends too. And then, suddenly, everyone started changing around her. People started looking to be couples, and there was drama, and breakups, and rumors of sex. Sarah went to parties, and saw the drama, but none of it ever touched her. No one ever approached her asking if she would date them, and she didn’t ask anyone, unsure of how to even begin.  
It… as much as she wanted to say that it didn’t bother her, it did. She looked at girls with boyfriends, and girls with girlfriends, and wondered why she didn’t have that. Maybe if she tried being less… less thorny, she _could_ have that. Maybe then someone would want to date her.

She asked her dad about it, as she always did with things like this, and he sat her down at the same table they had owned for six years, and looked at her very seriously. “Sarah, if you’re determined, there’s nothing holding you back from changing. But, before you change yourself, think about it carefully. A change like this, something that could shape your personality, it has to be something you want, not something you think you need to fit in. And whatever you choose, I’ll always love you. Okay?”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

She got into a fight later that year over one of her friends, and while she was spitting curses at the _fuck_ she had been fighting, she made up her mind. Fuck sweetness, fuck being nice, fuck all of that. She would do what she wanted, and god help _anyone_ that got in her way.

It felt good to think that. It felt right. And, with a split lip and too many bruises and a smile wide enough to look menacing and victorious all at once, she went home, her father silent in the driver’s seat (but not disapproving).

\-----------------------------------------------------------

When she was 16, she answered her dad’s phone on accident, thinking it was hers. It was winter, and the heater was broken, so she had gathered a million blankets on the couch and settled in to play Legend of Zelda. Her dad had fallen asleep on the other end of the sofa, his phone and hers right next to each other, so when it rang she picked it up without looking. “Hellooo?”

There was a pause, and then a deep, nasally voice asked, confused, “Uh, hello? Is Joe there?”

Sarah did a double take, pausing her game, and her eyes flickered to _her_ phone, still sitting on the table.

Well, shit.

“Uh, yeah. He’s asleep right now, so… is it important?”

She knew that her father did some… not so legal stuff. Or, rather, she knew that he was _involved_ in illegal stuff; she didn’t know if he _participated._ She didn’t really care, either way-- her dad was her dad, and she loved him whatever he did for work.

The voice came back after a few seconds. “It’s not that important, I guess. Is this his daughter? Sarah, right? I’m Cooper, you might not remember me, but when you were about… 7, I think, we had a conversation a lot like this one.”

She tried and failed to recall any such memory, and told him as much. “Yeah, sorry, I don’t remember anything like that. You’re the Cooper he always complains about? Makes sense if you’re calling him this late.”

Cooper laughed. “Good old Joe. Listen, just tell him I called if he wakes up before tomorrow, okay?”

Sarah hummed an affirmative. “Yeah.”

For an instant, there was silence, and then Cooper asked, gently, “How are the knives treating you? Learned any cool tricks?”

And suddenly, the name Cooper carried even more weight, because she remembered the card in her present as clearly as if she was holding it in her hands. “YOU were the Cooper that sent me those?”

His voice is amused. “Well, Joe only knows one Cooper, as far as I know. Tell your dad I called, alright?”

And then the line was dead, and she stared down at the phone with a mix of surprise, irritation and gratitude. Maybe this Cooper was a criminal, but he didn’t seem half bad.

\---------------------------------------------------

Sarah finally _met_ Cooper when she was 17, and it was completely by accident. She had gone downtown, searching for a good place to eat before she went back to school shopping, and ducked into a nice-looking deli. Their sandwiches were a good price, so she ordered, and leaned on the glass as she waited. She studied her reflection in the glass of the display-- short hair, jean jacket, sunglasses, a scar here and there from a fight or a fall. She didn’t really care about the scars; she was actually pretty proud of them. They were a part of her, just like her haircut and her teeth and the golden knife tucked safely into her jacket’s inside pocket.  
The person behind the counter, whose nametag said “Scotty”, smiled at her as he was called to the back room for a second, and a taller, older man took his place. His sandy hair was long, floppy, and she was thinking how strange it would be to have that much hair when a deep voice floated above the small line at the register.

“Maitho! Sorry I’m late, I had some business to take care of with Joe, his car broke down.” Sarah didn’t recognize the voice, per say, but the mention of her father’s name made her look up (even though there were a billion Joes in the world, she only knew one; it was like hearing your own name even though you knew it belonged to someone else). The voice was connected to a short, sharp man, with the same mess of hair that the man at the counter had. His was brown, though, and just like the rest of him, it was sharp, spiky, unruly. The man at the counter (Maitho, then) beamed, calling back, “No problem! Is his car up and running now?”

The other man, still nameless, sauntered up to the counter, smiling apologetically at the next customer, and nodded at Maitho. “Yeah. Nothing we couldn’t handle. That limo is a real beast, I tell you, that monster could get through anything with a little duct tape and fuel.”

Sarah cocked her head, eyebrows pulling together, because her dad complained about his limo all the time-- but surely, surely that was a coincidence?

Well, it wouldn’t hurt to find out.

“Excuse me-- are you talking about Joe--”

The other man, brown hair, took one look at her and his eyes went wide. “Sarah?”

And that made it click-- winter, broken heater, picking up the wrong phone, and the name came to her lips smoothly, as though she had known it from the first. “Cooper?”

Cooper started laughing, and Maitho just looked confused, but Cooper shook his head at him and smiled at Sarah. “Good to meet you. That present still working well for you?”

A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, but she tried to keep her face free of laughter. Whatever he might seem like, Cooper was a criminal, and it was better to be cautious in situations like this. “Yeah, it is. I have it with me now, actually, been carrying it since the day I got it. So don’t try anything funny.”

Instead of tapering off, his smile just got bigger, and she couldn’t resist a small grin of her own. “You know, the resemblance between you and your father isn’t strong in looks, but when you start talking, there’s no denying that you’re his daughter. You’re still in school, right? What’ll this be, your senior year?”

Suddenly, Scotty called her ticket number, and she excused herself from the conversation for a moment to pick up her sandwich. When she turned, looking for a place to sit, Cooper motioned to a small table close to the window. She sat opposite him, picking up the conversation as if nothing happened. “Yeah, I’ll be a senior this year. I don’t feel like one, though. Still need a car and a job and about three more inches.”

Cooper nodded thoughtfully, eyes taking on a considering look, and she remembered the “criminal” part of his character quite suddenly. But when he spoke, it was with gentleness and with not a trace of the coercion she had expected. “Well, if you need a job, I have a position open for a driver. It’s clean, no need to worry, just driving for important people, but it pays well. You _can_ drive, right?”

She wanted very badly to refuse him outright, but her curiosity (and, yeah, a need for money) outweighed the caution she was trying to exercise. “What kind of pay are we talking about? Will the car be better than dad’s? Am I paid on an hourly schedule or like a taxi? What--”

Cooper held up his hands, laughing. “Hey, hey, slow down! The pay is good, 17 dollars an hour, and your hours are flexible. No 9-to-5 here. The car is a Toyota Avalon, a good car, dependable. You’ll just be transporting people, so there’s no need for anything bigger. Does that sound good?”

She leaned back, took a bite of her sandwich, and thought about it. It was a good offer, certainly better than flipping burgers or waiting tables. Paid better, too. She wasn’t big on cars, so she couldn’t say for certain if the Avalon was good, but the benefits seemed to outweigh the possible drawbacks.

Of course, there was one thing she would have to do before she took the job.

She pulled her phone out of her pocket, dialing the only number in her favorites list, and held a finger up in a “wait a sec” gesture. Cooper waited, but the way his eyes flicked from the phone to her face told Sarah that he knew exactly what she was doing. When the other end picked up, she said, cheerfully, “Hey, dad. So, I’m out shopping today, right, and I duck into this deli, Chop Chop, for a sandwich, and guess who I meet?”

Her father’s voice was instantly on guard, but with a hint of the playful grumpiness that was reserved for only her. “Is his name Maitho? Rothbauer?”

She cleared her throat. “Well, yeah, but I met ANOTHER someone here too. He gives his fondest from across the table to you and your limo.”

The someone across the table huffed a small laugh at that, and her father’s voice crackled like ice across the phone line. “Sarah, honey, I’ll call you right back.”

The line went dead, and Sarah lowered her phone, grinning at Cooper. He sighed and pulled out his phone, which started to ring, and said wearily, “You know, this isn’t boding well for your job application.” He answered, holding the phone a few inches from his face, and even Sarah winced when Joe’s voice came loud and clear from the poor phone’s speakers.

“FOSTER, IF YOU EVEN LOOK AT MY DAUGHTER THE WRONG WAY, I’M GOING TO STRING YOU UP AND GET ROTHBAUER TO MAKE A FUCKING PANINI OUT OF YOU, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?”   
  
Cooper sighed, rolling his eyes a little, and pressed the phone to his cheek, murmuring softly, “I haven’t and never will do anything to Sarah. We just happened to meet in the deli, and I offered her a job--”

If possible, her father’s voice got louder, and shriller. “YOU OFFERED HER _WHAT??_ BAD ENOUGH THAT I’M WORKING FOR YOU, YOU HAVE TO DRAG MY _SEVENTEEN YEAR OLD DAUGHTER INTO THIS TOO? THERE IS NO_ **_FUCKING--”_ **

Cooper cut him off hastily, shaking his hand in a “no” gesture as if Joe was there in front of him. “Nonono, nothing like what you do. Since Harry quit, I’ve been looking for a replacement ferry, you know, small time, nobody aggressive or dangerous. Mostly just people like Rothbauer. I can absolutely guarantee you that there won’t be any trouble. And you know I don’t make guarantees like that often.”

There was silence, deadly silence, for more than half a minute, and Sarah was beginning to think that maybe her father had gotten so mad he had lost his ability to speak, which had happened once before (and Sarah hoped that was _not_ the case, because if it was then things were going to get _very_ bad). Then, finally, he started talking, but much lower, so low Sarah couldn’t make out his words. Cooper nodded, said “uh huh” a few times, and then he took the phone away from his face, staring at Sarah with something like annoyance (but with too much fondness to have any weight.) “Your dad’s really something else. If you want the job, he says that you can have it, but that I have to take you out driving first, for some reason.”

Sarah rolled her eyes, taking another bite out of her sandwich. “That makes sense. He thinks that I’m a crazy driver, so he probably thinks that’ll keep you from hiring me.”

Cooper looked more and more like he was regretting his decision. “Crazy driver, huh? You can’t be worse than Harry was. I’ll give you my number, and we’ll arrange a time to meet, and if you’re… not crazy enough for the job, it’s all yours.”

They exchanged numbers, and Sarah left not soon after that, unsure of how to feel about Cooper. Criminal, but kind (or at least putting up a good front); annoying (according to her dad) but smooth. She didn’t know what to make of him, so she put him into the gray area of her mind and didn’t think about it much further. She had supplies to buy.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Avalon was a fantastic car, and Sarah enjoyed driving it much more than her dad’s car. Cooper didn’t look so thrilled, clutching at the dashboard in the passenger’s seat with one hand and grabbing for the handhold on the roof of the car with the other. When they pulled into the empty parking lot they had met in, Cooper opened the car door and fell to his knees on the ground, sighing in obvious relief.

Sarah couldn’t even bring herself to be offended.

She stepped out of the car, shutting the door softly, and by the time she walked around the front, Cooper was back on his feet, only looking a little bit like a ghost had scared the color out of him. He was the first to speak, and he sounded remarkably composed given how he looked. “Okay, so this is probably NOT the job for you. Jesus. That took three years off my life, and I don’t have many of those left, you know.”

Sarah shrugged. “Hey, I thought I did pretty well. That’s the most careful I’ve driven since I got my license.”

The look on Cooper’s face told her that he didn’t think that was possible, but he steered the topic away from her driving instead. “Alright, well. There’s another job opening, _not_ driving, that pays just as good but might be a little more difficult. We need a bouncer at one of my employer’s clubs downtown, and from what I’ve seen, you have more than enough courage to take that job. You’re smarter than most of the people we hire for that kind of job too, which is brownie points and a possible pay raise in a few months. Sound good?”

Sarah started to say something about her dad and what he would say to that, but the look on Cooper’s face was enough to make her take pity on him. “Actually, that sounds pretty awesome. When do I start?”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It wasn’t lying if she never told him, Sarah reflected. If he thought she was driving when in reality she was doing another, slightly more dangerous, job, well, she wasn’t going to tell him otherwise. Being a bouncer at a high-end club wasn’t _anything_ like being a bouncer at a seedy bar. It would be fine. It would probably even be easy. The hardest part would be her look, because she had the attitude down pat. Stoic, frowning, even-tempered but badass; that was easy. Her outside would need to be just as cool.

The finger tattoos, she thought approvingly, were a nice touch. They were fake, of course, because finger tattoos were stupid, but they were also a nice accessory that said “Do Not Fuck With Me”. She had gotten a whole pack of alphabet falsies for 5.99, along with a few other choice designs. But what to spell? She had five fingers on each hand; but thumbs didn’t count, so that was four. “Fuck”, obviously, was her number 1 choice, but she debated about her other hand-- at least, until a kid coming out of Walmart gave her the idea. He pushed her, probably accidentally, but she cussed him out anyway, ending with, “fucking boys. Disgusting.”

And, just like that, it was decided. She went to work her first night with eight tattoos: one on her collarbone, two on her right arm, three on her left, a small one above her eyebrow, and FUCK BOYS on her fingers. Sunglasses, a nice button up, a suit jacket, suit pants, and a few chunky rings completed her look (and, of course, her trusty knife sat waiting in the breast pocket of her jacket-- no outfit was complete without it).

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Her third night on the job, some John tried something, grabbing her arm and leaning in smelling like booze, leering at her like she was an animal on display. “What’s a sweet little girl like you doing being a bouncer? Go home to your mom, girly, or I’ll send you home with a couple bruises.”

In all honesty, she wasn’t even sure _what_ she did, just that it ended with the guy on the ground, nose broken (and probably his nuts too) and face bruised. Privately, Sarah was glad the guy had only been a few inches taller than her, and maybe 30 pounds heavier, but she sure as hell wouldn’t say that to anyone who asked. But more than that, she remembered her first fight, at 12, and her second at 14, and the many after, and didn’t feel even a little shame or regret. This was who she was, and it felt good to see men taller and stronger than her look apprehensive when they talked to her.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

For her 18th birthday, her dad took her out to her favorite restaurant and then they went home and watched all three of her favorite movies. He fell asleep during the last one, but that was alright. The couch was more than comfortable for a night. She kissed his forehead before she went to bed, smiling down at him, and left feeling much younger than 18. It felt as if she was 7 again, actually, and dad had fallen asleep on the couch after work; like she was 10, and dad had stayed up with her to watch reruns of Disney movies on the TV; like she was 16 and he had fallen asleep while she was playing a videogame; like so many more, the memories popping up effortlessly as she ascended the stairs.

She sat on her bed, looking around her room (full of strange things she had bought for hobbies that she no longer had), and decided that on his next birthday, she would take her dad out to that diner he loved and play as much poker as he wanted. He deserved it, and much more, and she was determined to make him as happy as possible in the time they still had together.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Putting on fake tattoos every few days for half a year made her start thinking about how a real one would feel. It took her a few weeks of deliberation, and research, but eventually Sarah admitted that she wouldn’t mind one. She even had a design in mind: thorns, wrapped around her arm, with loud splashes of color in the background. A testament to her personality, and a perfect one at that.

There was, of course, one problem: her dad would flip out if she asked him. She loved him, she really did, and he always insisted that she could do what she wanted because she had common sense, but she knew good and well that if she asked him about a tattoo it wouldn’t end well. She didn’t like lying to him, but she rationalized it by thinking that really, not telling him wasn’t the same as lying. It was just making a decision and dealing with the aftermath, not disobeying or going behind his back.

She was 18, more than old enough to go alone, but she didn’t have a car. She also didn’t _want_ to go alone-- she was adult enough to admit to herself that the prospect of getting a tattoo scared her a little. But instead of calling one of her friends, who would have given her a ride anywhere, she called the second number on her favorites list, and when it picked up, she started talking right away. “I’m getting a tattoo today, and I need you to take me, because I know you’re off today.”

Cooper sounded exasperated when he responded. “Firstly, are you skipping school? That’s not good, Sarah, college is important. Secondly, does your dad know that you’re getting a tattoo?”

She summoned all of her attitude, raising an eyebrow even though he couldn’t see her. “No, and I don’t have to get his permission. I just need a ride.”

“And you called me for that. Not a friend.”

Sarah grimaced. He had her there. “It’ll look better with an old guy there, so they don’t think I’m just a stupid kid making a split second decision.”

Cooper scoffed. “Old guy? 41 is not OLD. You’re not doing a very good job of convincing me.”

Her voice was flat and even when she pulled her trump card. “If you don’t take me, I’ll tell my dad that you psychologically scarred me when I was 7 years old. How badly do you think he’s gonna take that?”

The line was silent. Sarah began to wonder if Cooper had hung up, but he finally started talking, in that smooth-but-nervous way that told her that she had him. “You don’t even remember what I said. There’s no way that you can--”

“Oh, I can, and I will. You’ve told me enough about that conversation to assure me that it would work on my dad. What was it, something about killing him and selling his corpse for money? Sound right? That’s a terrible thing to say to a seven year old, Cooper. You should be ashamed.”

There was that silence again, and finally Cooper sighed. “Alright, alright, you got me. I’ll be there in half an hour.”

He hung up, and Sarah took a moment to grin down at the phone, relishing her moment of victory.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cooper showed up ten minutes later with a tube of numbing cream and a book to read, and Sarah laughed pretty much all the way to the parlour.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

The tattoo place was small, but clean, and run by a man and woman who obviously knew what they were doing. Cooper lurked nervously near the door, while Sarah went forward, shaking the woman’s hand when she offered. “Hi, I’m Chrissy. You here for a tattoo, not picking anyone up or anything? Do you know what you want, or do you want to look through our books first, maybe consult with me about your design?”

Sarah nodded. “I’m Sarah. I know what kind of design I want, but I don’t have a drawing or anything. Are, uh, do you do stuff like thorns around people’s arms often? That’s what I was thinking about.”

Chrissy made a thoughtful noise, gesturing for Sarah to follow her, and started off for the back room. Sarah turned, gave Cooper a thumbs up and a grin, and headed back with her. Chrissy sat down at a table with a lot of paper and pens on it, and Sarah took the seat across from her.

“So, before we start. You’re over 18, right?”

Sarah pulled out her wallet, showing Chrissy her driver’s license, and when the woman was satisfied, the real work began. It took half an hour to lay out the plan of the tattoo, and when Chrissy and Sarah were satisfied, they took it out to the front. The man (who introduced himself as Xavier) helped Sarah to her chair, and told her that her dad was welcome to come over and sit with her if she wanted. She almost started laughing, but motioned Cooper over anyway, and he came to sit beside her with a pinched look on his face. “Not a word about my age. Not. A. Word.”

She raised her hands in mock surprise, blinking innocently at him. “I would do no such thing… granddad.”

His eye twitched, but Chrissy saved them, swooping in with a tray of inks and a tattoo gun. Cooper, instead of dealing with Sarah, held up the numbing cream, asking if it was necessary, or if it could even be used. Chrissy waved him off, holding up a tube of her own, and applied it liberally on Sarah’s upper arm. From there, it was only a few minutes before the cream was wiped off and Chrissy started to apply a tracing of the tattoo with some kind of pen. Sarah took a breath, closed her eyes, and let herself relax, waiting for the buzz and the pressure that would signify the point of no return.

It scared her. Knowing that this was permanent, that it wouldn’t come off like her other tattoos, made her waver in her decision, and for a moment she considered calling it all off-- but she steeled herself, taking a deep breath, and accepted what was to come.

\----------------------------------------------------------

The tattoo was perfect. It was even better than she had imagined. When she saw it, completed, in the mirror that Chrissy gave her, she laughed, bouncing up and down in her seat. “Oh my god. It’s perfect! Thank you, thank you so much!”

She paid with her debit card and nodded all the way through Chrissy’s explanation of the aftercare, gently patting the bandage which hid her perfect tattoo from the world. Three weeks to heal sounded like a long, long time, but Sarah was sure that it would work out. She would make it work.

She would definitely be back, she told Chrissy, and relished in Cooper’s muttered “oh god” behind her.

When they left the tattoo place, three hours later, Chrissy stared out the window of Cooper’s car and said, aloud, “You know, I think I’m better off for knowing you, even if you are a ruthless criminal mastermind.”

Cooper snorted, and Sarah didn’t have to look to know that he was rolling his eyes. “You already got your tattoo, so what’s the flattery for?”

She turned to face him, completely serious, and he glanced over, raising his eyebrows at the look on her face. “It’s the truth. You gave me a job that I really like, and you make Maitho happy, and as much as dad says that you’re the devil and how much he wishes he never met you, he thinks you’re okay enough to talk to me on a daily basis, so that says something about how much he trusts you. And your gift-- those knives-- I just wanted to say thank you. For being a bad guy, you’re not that bad of a guy.”

Cooper laughed, a full laugh that made his eyes crinkle at the corners, and she realized, all jokes aside, how _old_ he was. “Thank you. It’s… it’s nice to hear that from someone other than Maitho, even if I do pay you. That being said, you’re not getting a pay raise anytime soon.”

She shrugged, muttering, “It was worth a try, right?”

They both knew she wasn’t serious, though.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

When Cooper dropped her off at her house, Sarah paused before she got out. “Cooper.”

He turned his head this time, focusing on her, and she really didn’t know what she was going to say before she said it. “Have a nice night, okay? Tell Maitho, too.”

Cooper’s smile was soft, and he nodded gently. “I’ll tell him. Be careful with that tattoo, alright? Do what the lady said to keep it clean.”

When he pulled out of the driveway, Sarah stared after his car, wishing for a moment that she had said something more to express her appreciation for what Cooper had given her. It was like her 18th birthday, that feeling of helplessness, of not being able to give enough, and she had to content herself with the thought that Maitho made Cooper happy enough for everyone. It would have to be enough, for now. Maybe for his next birthday, she would make him a cake, or something.  
  
He was basically family, after all.


End file.
